One in Five Thousand
by Maria Rene
Summary: Abby receives a shocking diagnosis, and Gibbs tries to help her and the team learn how to cope with it. Written for Rare Disease Day. Sort of vaguely a companion piece to Refuge. Rating increased for a couple PG-type words in chapter two.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Abby gets a shocking diagnosis.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing with them. Free bonus disclaimer, since I'm dealing with medical goodies, the internet is an awesome resource, but don't use anything you read online as a replacement for a real medical professional. Your doctor should always be a key player, even if you do have a disease so rare that you have to teach the doctor how to diagnose it before he can diagnose you.

A/N: I'm marking this complete, but I don't really know if there will be more chapters, or if this one will stand alone. I'm open to ideas, if you have any thoughts on what might come next, or if you even want anything to come next. Maybe you'll spark an idea for me. Either way, it's been fun to play around with the concept. Apologies for errors; I tried to pay attention but my attention span is about zero at this point.

I started kicking this idea around back nearer to Rare Disease Day. The name "Goald's Syndrome" is made-up, but the genetic disorder described in this story is very real. I created a new name for it because I have it myself. I don't want people who know me in real life to find my fiction writing by googling for information on the disease, and the real-life Goald's is so rare that if you google it, that would actually be a possibility. The symptoms I describe are some of the common ones I've heard from many people who have a mild to moderate assortment of symptoms. Not everyone agrees that all of them can be blamed on Goald's. "Syndrome" means a group of symptoms... something like a checklist, nobody has all of them, and some are a lot more unusual than others, so... there's a lot of room for debate.

I got the idea to use NCIS as my own personal way of raising awareness, when I was showing a friend some of the outward signs of my disorder, and I realized that Abby has a lot of them herself. Of course, that does NOT mean that Abby has the same condition. One in eight people carry many of the primary outward signs, but only about one in 5,000 have the underlying issues that are needed for diagnosis, so actually it's highly unlikely. But you know how plot bunnies go, once I put two and two together, I had to write the story just to see how Abby would react to the diagnosis. Want to know more about Goald's, including its real name? Message me, and I'll fire off a couple informative links.

* * *

The first thing he observed when he emerged from the elevator was the silence. Immediately, the hairs on his neck stood up. It didn't always have to mean something was wrong, when Abby's music wasn't heard throughout her hallway; Abby got headaches like anybody else, after all. He knew he was just telling himself that because he was worried, that her awkward phone call asking him to come to her lab was proof enough that something was wrong. She knew he always came down around three o'clock to check up on her, when they were between cases. She only needed to wait another half-hour or so. The very fact that she didn't, told him all he needed to know. But he hoped, just the same.

"Abby?" Gibbs called gently, keeping his voice low in case she did have a headache or something. It was entirely plausible. The team calendar, the one that nobody knew he knew how to check, said she had been out for a doctor visit earlier in the morning. She'd blocked out six hours. Wait. Six hours, for a medical appointment? Working some quick arithmetic, he realized she probably had only been at work for a few minutes when she called. He instantly regretted not realizing that her call might be urgent. She'd been waiting for him for ten minutes, he estimated, as he wandered through her lab, to her office, finding her only when he stumbled over her feet sticking out from under her desk. It only took him a moment to set down the drinks in his hands, and get down onto the floor with her. His knees would make him pay for that later, he knew, but that didn't matter. That's what Advil was invented for, he reasoned, taking her hand in his and tugging her out into the open, so he could wrap an arm around her as they leaned against the furniture.

"Abby, what's wrong?" He kept his voice even and low, but inside, he wanted to panic. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, more or less," she said, voice devoid of emotion. "I had a doctor appointment this morning."

"Mmhm. It was on the calendar."

"Gibbs! You know how to read the team calendar!" That got a smile out of her, at least.

"Abbs? The doctor appointment?"

"Oh yeah. It was... um. Well, I kind of feel bad, because this is the kind of thing I usually tell you about, and I didn't, not for weeks and weeks, and it was really hard not to, and I'm sorry, but I just kept thinking if I didn't tell anybody, it wouldn't be real." Gibbs just raised an eyebrow at Abby. Normally he'd chide her for talking too fast, for not getting to the point, but he could tell she needed to go about this in her way. He looked down at her, and though she didn't make eye contact, she turned her face so that he could see it for just a moment, an unspoken apology mingling with fear on her face. His heart twisted itself into a knot, and he wished he had a magic wand to fix... well, whatever was wrong.. "It didn't work," Abby continued. "It's real anyway. I should have told you."

"If it's got you this upset, yes, you should have told me. But you get a chance now to fix that, so, let's have it." Abby took a deep breath... and then another one... and then one more before Gibbs lost his patience. "Abby, do you have some fatal disease?"

"No, no, Gibbs, nothing like that. It's just... wow. A few months ago, my brother let me know that my niece has a genetic disorder. And... so does he. And based on what he remembered about growing up... he thought I might have it, too." The last bit came out in such a rush that Gibbs almost didn't understand it... or maybe he didn't want to, he thought, as the meaning of her words hit him full force. No. No, whatever this was, it couldn't be happening, he couldn't lose any more family. Gibbs allowed himself a moment of sheer terror before he sucked it up and forced himself to face whatever it was his young friend was trying to tell him.

"Is that why you blocked out six hours for a doctor appointment today?" he asked, starting with the easiest question.

"Yeah. Well that, and it was in Baltimore. She's supposed to be one of the best, people fly here from all over the country just to see her. But the drive was horrible, and then some idiot cab driver cut me off on the 295, slammed on his brakes, I nearly hit him, and he's flipping me off like it was my fault!" Gibbs allowed himself a moment of amusement before getting back to the real issue.

"Well, it's genetic... doesn't that mean that you could have just tested yourself for it, here in the lab?"

"I would if I could, but it's not that simple, Gibbs. Just because we know things are passed along through our genes, doesn't mean we always know which ones, or which of a billion variations produce a normal human being, and which produce disease. We don't know a whole lot about how to test for common diseases, let alone one that only affects about two hundredths of a percent of the population."

"There's no test for this one yet," Gibbs replied, showing her that he understood what she was getting at.

"And there might never be, really. It's not like breast cancer, with the nonstop fundraising. The federal government defines a rare disease as one that affects about one in fifteen-hundred people. This thing is one in five thousand, Gibbs. There's not a whole lot of research funding, not even for something as basic as definitive diagnosis. Goald's Syndrome is diagnosed by clinical exam," Abby continued to explain, still half-ranting out of sheer nervousness. Gibbs was slightly bothered that she'd still not made eye contact with him, other than when he had pulled her out from under her desk. "They look at you, and ask about a million questions about your symptoms, history, family history, and there's a lot of room for debate about it all."

"What did the doctor say about you?"

"That I don't have a ton of the problems that usually come with. But, she's pretty sure I have it... and I think she's right." Gibbs had prepared himself for that answer, from the moment she'd begun talking, but it still hit him hard, almost as hard as when he'd gotten word that his first family had been taken from him. Some days, loving people just sucked. It was worth it, of course, and life isn't supposed to be all rainbows and butterflies, but right now it sucked, and he hated these parts of life.

"Will you get more symptoms later on?" he asked, focusing on the practical issues as a way of calming his freaked-out heart.

"I might, but at my age, it's less likely to see a whole lot of them out of nowhere. It can happen, but the doc thinks I shouldn't worry too much about it. So that's good, at least. And she was able to tell me how I can avoid making it worse. Well, it can't get worse, it's genetic, but the symptoms can be progressive, because of... well. I guess I should start at the beginning." Gibbs chuckled at that, and Abby found herself giggling,too, in spite of herself. "Goald's Syndrome affects the ligaments in the body. It's like..." Without looking, she opened her desk drawer and pulled a rubber band out, holding it out for Gibbs to see. "It's like this. Right now, it's stretchy and elastic," she explained, demonstrating her point. "But if I stretch it a lot, like if I use it around something a little bit too big, it'll stretch out some, and then I might use it around something that it used to not fit around, but now it's stretched out, so it can fit. And then it keeps just stretching bigger and bigger, till it's not a whole lot of use anymore. That's what my ligaments might do. Instead of holding my bones together, and making my joints work right, they might just stretch out, and not hold so good."

"If that happened, what symptoms would it cause?"

"Dislocation, subluxation, easy spraining, muscle strains because the muscles aren't affected, so they'd get yanked... osteoarthritis." Gibbs started genuinely laughing once she explained. "What? Gibbs, stop, this is serious! I'm really scared!"

"Oh, Abby," he muttered, pulling her into a hug as he laughed. "You're right, that's serious stuff, but I was worried it would be so much worse than that. I'm just relieved it's not worse." Abby glared at her companion for a moment before melting into his hug.

"Yeah, it could be a lot worse... there was some scary stuff I read in my research. There's a few different types, and the one that my niece has, and that I guess I have, is the least terrifying. I do have pain... I thought that was normal, I thought everybody had it and I was just a wimp. That's a lot of why I think I got into science. Sitting and reading was easy for me. It didn't hurt."

"Well, that's a good thing about it," Gibbs muttered into her hair, not ready to let go of her yet. "Don't know what we'd do without you." He didn't have to look to know Abby was beaming at being reminded that she was irreplaceable. Her grin almost literally lit up the whole room. "Abby... tell me about the symptoms you do have." He smiled slightly as she frowned in thought. She was thinking so hard, it was almost a glare.

"Well my fingers bend back way more than they should... I'm definitely more flexible than a lot of people my age, outside of the porn industry anyway. And I can do this," she said, pulling her ring finger away from the hand bone and wiggling the 'wrong' end of the finger at Gibbs, who grabbed her hand to put a stop to it, sure that his treasured young friend was doing herself injury. "And my joints do pop more than they should at my age... muscles never get to relax, which makes them sore. My fingers do kind of sublux -- that's a mild dislocation that resolves itself -- when I push elevator buttons and stuff. And... um. Something isn't right about my left knee, but it's not too bad either. Just hurts when it's humid out." Gibbs suddenly noticed he'd started rubbing little circles on her shoulder with his thumb, trying to calm himself as much as her, as she shared what she was going through.

"Sounds like you feel a lot like I do, but probably to a lesser degree," Gibbs summed up, getting a nod out of his companion in response. "It sounds to me like this is incredibly unfair, but you can still have the life you want if you remember to take care of yourself." Another nod. This was good, at least. It was starting to sound like not such a bad thing, other than the shock of being diagnosed with some weird rare disease. Gibbs took one deep, calming breath, before Abby started talking again and messed up his whole 'this isn't a big deal' illusion.

"It's scary, though. I mean, I've talked to people who have the same type as me, online. I talked to one lady who holds down a job, and raises two kids, who both have it too, and she's like, Wonder Woman. But I've also talked to somebody who had to give up her career of choice because the disease affected her eyes, and a couple people who have to use crutches... even wheelchairs, or walkers... a lot of people have it affect their fingers and hands, and it makes it hard to write, or even use a computer. A lot of people say that the symptoms vary from one day to the next, because it can depend on how strong your body is, if you've injured anything... even what you eat might matter, because if you didn't feed your body good building blocks one day, then it might build even crappier ligaments, and people can call you horrible names and treat you like you're faking, just because you were walking one day, and using a wheelchair the next. I even met somebody who had it affect the teeny bones in his ears, but because it's not real hearing loss, doctors don't even do anything to help... there's not much you can do, but he had to teach himself sign language, even. I guess sign language wouldn't be a big deal for me, but Gibbs, what if it screws up my hands? What if I can't walk one day?" Well, Gibbs didn't really expect her to be so freaked out over nothing, he reasoned, as he plotted how best to approach her fear and uncertainty. Her words scared him, too, and he made a point to look it all up later, and do some more reading. But for now, he decided, he should approach the practical issues.

"Okay... what if you need help walking? Can we make your lab accessible? Is it possible, according to the laws of physics? Is there anything in here that we cannot figure out how to make accessible to a wheelchair-bound lab technician?" Abby pulled back from the hug just enough to peer up at Gibbs, dismayed. Leave it to him to thwart her perfectly good anxiety attack. Gibbs, for his part, reached out and ran his fingers through her ponytail. He wasn't sure if she was going to gripe at him or not, but he was prepared to take whatever came next. It wasn't personal, after all... Abby was just upset.

"I think we can make everything accessible, theoretically, but it wouldn't be cheap. Or easy. It would require a bigger lab."

"Law's pretty clear on making accommodation, Abbs. It would get done, if I have to rebuild your lab myself. What about your hands? Is there anything they can do for hand problems?"

"Well, there are some things... a certain style of splint. They're actually really unobtrusive, and even kind of pretty, though I think I'd have to quit wearing my rings, to make room for them. And they're kind of expensive, and I don't know if you've noticed, but the Navy doesn't pay that well. I live within my means, Gibbs, and I'm comfortable with that, and I love my job too much to leave it over money, but... I don't make enough for some of the stuff that my insurance won't cover. I mean, I can, but it would mean giving up on my retirement savings, and I could say goodbye to my rainy day fund."

"Can you buy more insurance?" Abby shrugged at that.

"I'll have to look into it more, but as far as I can tell, getting things covered is a big game of what codes to write on the forms, and it's anybody's guess what insurance will do with each one, on a given day. I might be able to set up a flexible spending account to at least make things tax-free, but I just don't know yet. A lot of people pay out of pocket, or just do without and hope they don't screw anything up too badly. Insurance often will cover surgical repair, but nothing in the way of prevention. Bureaucracy is set up to deal with the things that happen 99.9% of the time; it has no real plan for the remaining tenth of a percent."

"Hmm. Good thing you have a friend who loves you enough to see that you have what you need." Abby peered up at him, at that.

"Gibbs, I couldn't take your--." He cut her off before she finished the sentence.

"You can and you will." Before she could argue any further, he silenced her with uncharacteristic openness. "Abby, I don't get to do the whole 'protect and provide' thing for my own daughter. Let me do it for you." Abby made a whimpering sound as she fell back into the hug she hadn't fully escaped from yet. She could think of a thousand ways to argue, starting with the fact that nothing he could ever do, would bring meaning or good out of the senseless loss of his precious family. But she could tell by the tone of his voice that these kinds of things did, in fact, help Gibbs to somehow cope with the horrific loss. And besides, she'd seen the prices for some of the items she feared she'd someday need. Having a benevolent surrogate father to write checks and solve problems, could be a good thing.

"What about your living arrangements? You worried about that?" Again, Abby peered up at Gibbs. How did he do that, anyway?

"The doctor already said I should consider moving to a downstairs unit, or to a building that has an elevator. And it's not urgent or anything, I can take a year or two before I get around to it, but... I kind of wanted children, but Goald's is dominant, meaning that if I pass the gene on, my child will have it, no ifs, and I don't know if I'm okay with that and... Gibbs, I hate this." Abby was acutely aware that she'd degenerated fully into whining at this point, but she didn't have the energy to care right now. In the span of fourteen weeks, her whole life had come crashing down around her, and she'd had absolutely no help in dealing with it. Of course that was her own fault, she knew, but it didn't make the pain or stress any easier. In fact, it made her feel worse, because she knew she could count on her NCIS family to be there for her, and she didn't even give them the chance. All because she hoped that not talking about it would make it go away.

It crossed her mind to apologize for keeping such a serious secret, but before she got the chance, they were interrupted by Gibbs' cell phone ringing. She sat quietly as he answered it, listening as the caller gave some details about a crime scene the team needed to go take a look at, knowing that her source of comfort was going to get up and leave in a moment. Much as Abby loved her job, right this minute she hated it. But to her surprise, when Gibbs ended the call, he didn't spring into action right away. He simply sat with his arm still around her, looking into her eyes.

"Abby, it seems like most of your problems right now have to do with fear. You've gotten some scary news, that I'm going to go read up on later, but right now you're in good health, and we can deal with any problems that come up in the future, even though we hope we won't have to. Don't let the fear make you forget those facts." She nodded in reply, her expression a mix of gratitude for Gibbs' understanding, and a need to say something, so he waited just a moment more.

"I'm-- I'm so sorry, Gibbs. I should have told you when it first came up."

"You should have. You didn't have to go through any of this alone. But we've fixed that now." Gibbs smiled as he got a grin out of his timid young friend. Finally, she seemed at peace... well as much as she could be right now. "See you tonight?" he asked, as he gathered them both up off the floor. Abby's eyes shifted in that way they did, when she wanted to be big and bad, but really just needed to take refuge in Gibbs' spare bedroom for a little while.

"Probably," she finally answered. Gibbs nodded, planting a kiss in her hair before turning to leave. "Gibbs?" she asked, stopping him halfway across the room. "I'm not ready to tell the rest of the guys yet... but when I am, will you come with me?"

"Mmhmm," he replied. "I'll even do it for you, if it'd make you feel better. And Abby? There is nothing even remotely wimpy about you, pain or no pain."

Abby took a deep, cleansing breath, listening to the familiar ding of the elevator. "I have the best boss ever," she told Bert the hippo, as she began her routine of cleaning and organizing, preparing her lab for the deluge of evidence she knew would be coming in just a couple hours.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, okay, a couple people want to know what happens next, and now that I think of it, I kind of wonder, too. So I've gone back and marked it in progress. I'll mess with it some more, though Refuge is really my pet tale. This is going to be a companion piece to Refuge, because I want to have the freedom to really focus on Goald's here, without it mowing down the tale I'm weaving over in Refuge. But it's the same universe, which is why Gibbs said, at the end here, that he'd see Abby "tonight". I might, later in this story, figure out where in the timeline it falls, but for now all I'm sure of is I want Ziva to be part of it, and Abby to be over her "I hate Ziva" thing, so we're at least most of the way through season three here. There were a lot of days I leaned on Ziva's quiet strength, the first couple years after diagnosis... Abby will be able to take even better advantage of that, since she's actually a real person in Abby's world, and not just a character.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimers: Still not my characters. Goald's is still a fictitious name for a very real condition. There's no particular spoilers. I didn't intend to write this chapter when I started the story, so... yeah, I'm not really sure it's any good, but it was fun, and that's my sole criteria for whether a story was worth writing. I'm again unsure if there will be another chapter or not. I also wrote this chapter on my phone, again, so let me know if there are any really goofy errors. Sometimes the phone cleverly decides to assume I meant something totally different from the word I was actually typing. The characters continue, in my opinion, to step out of character. And juggling all of the team in Gibbs' house, in one story... egads. Don't expect me to do that in the Refuge series anytime soon, no matter how much I want to!

* * *

Gibbs gently unfolded and read the note that he'd found taped to his desk when he got to work Monday morning. It was unsigned, but between the handwriting, and the topic, he knew it was from Abby. He'd wondered when she'd be ready to talk to the rest of the team about her diagnosis, but it had only been a few days since that fateful afternoon. He'd intended to wait a couple weeks before encouraging her to talk about it, but apparently he didn't need to bother. She'd asked him to schedule a team meeting at his home Friday night, and to make some time to go over her notes beforehand, in case it was too hard for her to do the job herself. Gibbs read it over once more, to be sure he hadn't missed anything in the short message, before picking up a pen and writing his own, equally simple message on the same page: I'll order pizza for everybody. He tucked it into his jacket pocket to take downstairs in a little bit. Now he had to contact the rest of the team, which, according to her note, included Ducky and Palmer, and request their presence at the meeting. Without mentioning the topic.

It seemed to him to be easier to just sit them all down at work and tell them, but he was determined to make this happen on Abby's terms. She'd been through enough already. Besides, he could envision a long question and answer session, and a lot of anxiety on Abby's part... it was maybe more than they should get into on the clock. So Gibbs opted to send out an email to the team, letting them know that he was scheduling a team meeting after work Friday, and that he'd be providing the pizza and beer. He thought of mentioning it was mandatory, but the simple fact that he'd called a meeting, should be enough for his team to understand that. As soon as he sent it, he started down to Abby's lab to give her his handwritten note. She'd probably read the email before he got downstairs, but he knew those little personal gestures mattered to her, and she could probably use a hug, now that there was no taking back her decision.

Fortunately, the rest of the week was consumed with another case, because even with all the work to be done, Abby was a complete wreck by Friday... so much so that quitting time found her standing by his desk, confessing that she was too nervous to drive safely, and asking him for a ride to his home. The weekend bag at her feet told him that she was doing even worse than she was willing to admit verbally. Gibbs reached out and squeezed her hand gently as he shut down his computer and gathered his things up. He was glad he'd already placed the pizza order a couple days ago, and that he'd stocked up on drinks last night when he'd had a little time.

Once the pair arrived at Gibbs's house, Abby made a beeline for the beer she knew waited in the fridge. Gibbs sat on the couch with her, waiting a few minutes before he spoke.

"You said you have some notes?" Abby nodded in reply, opening her bag and taking out an overstuffed evidence bag. Gibbs laughed aloud when he saw that... of course Abby would use an evidence bag rather than the customary manila envelope. But before he got the chance to make a comment, she'd pulled out her notes, and laid them in his hands.

"They're pretty easy to follow... it's kind of like a speech outline. Subject, predicate, you add the linking words to make it sound good. I want you to read them, though, and let's be sure you understand it all." Gibbs nodded and began doing exactly as she asked, reading through the whole page. She was nothing if not thorough, he mused.

"So what's the rest of that stuff?" he asked, when he was done, wordlessly suggesting that the notes were just fine with him.

"I, um, I made some copies of an article from the National Institutes of Health, about the variety of Goald's that I have. I figured Ducky would want it, and maybe McGee... there's a lot of words to google later, if they want. Stuff like that. And there's some copies of a flyer from the Goald's Syndrome National Foundation, that give a less technical overview. My brother got a bunch of them to pass out to friends and family, when they got the diagnosis, to help with explaining. I figured we could pretty much spring it on them, and then pass it out when I'm done taking... or you... whatever. If I hand them out earlier, McGee won't hear a word of anything, he'll be too busy reading and looking stuff up." Gibbs chuckled at that. Yeah, that sounded like McGee.

Once he'd gone over the notes again, Gibbs decided that Abby had spent enough time worrying about what was to come. Instead, he set the bag of papers aside, and leaned back into the sofa, pulling her against him to rest. She was still stressed, of course, but he knew she was calmed by closeness to others. And the beer probably helped some, too. They didn't move until Tony and Ziva let themselves in a few minutes later, a pizza delivery person in tow. Gibbs stood up to pay the bill, while Abby took the opportunity to carry her bag upstairs. When she came back down with Luna in her arms, everyone else had arrived, too, and they were just starting to get into the food. Gibbs watched Abby for a moment before quietly putting a plate together for her and tucking it into the microwave for safekeeping. She'd eat after the meeting part was done, mostly because he was going to make her eat.

When everyone had taken their food and drink to the living room, and settled down, Gibbs got out the bag of papers, and took his own seat in the room, sitting in the small armchair near the television set. Abby sat on the floor in front of him, tucking herself between his feet.

"Do you feel up to this?" he asked her quietly, as he glanced around the room. McGee had taken over the floor in front of the fireplace, while Tony, Ziva, and Ducky took up most of the couch. Palmer had settled in front of his mentor, resting his back on the arm of the sofa. Gibbs was glad to see that... he hadn't been too sure the pair would work out early on, but the kid had ended up growing on them all, and Ducky had worked to become the leader the younger man needed him to be.

In reply to Gibbs's question, Abby simply took the packet of papers from his hand, rummaged through them, and handed the outline back. He couldn't say he was shocked by that, but it still hurt him to see her so wound up, especially about something that didn't seem like a big deal. But then, after all he'd been through, Goald's wasn't such a big deal. Abby, though... this thing touched on the biggest fears and insecurities her injured heart had to offer. To her, it probably did feel like the end of the world. Gibbs took the outline from her, and nudged her with his feet, encouraging her to scoot forward. Once she did, Gibbs slid out of the chair and onto the floor, wrapping one arm around her and Luna while the other held the notes out so he could follow them. Taking a deep breath, he plunged in.

"I called this meeting because Abby's had something happen. It's not entirely horrible, but it needs to be dealt with. She's not feeling up to talking about it, so I'm doing it for her." With the introduction done, Gibbs launched into Abby's notes on Goald's. One by one, he shared the points she'd listed, a mix of clinical information, her own signs and symptoms, and Abby's fears and things she wanted to share with her friends. He hadn't noticed when he was going through the notes the first time, but now that he was saying them all aloud, it was painfully obvious how afraid Abby was. The single biggest section of her notes had to do with the uncertain nature, how much she was already faking it to get through some days, not knowing if she'd need adaptive equipment in the future, or what life changes that would bring. She wasn't even sure she'd be able to keep her job, despite his attempts last week to reassure her about keeping the building accessible to her ever-evolving needs.

Gibbs had known she was frightened, of course; they'd talked about it a lot in the past week or so since Abby had first shared with him about Goald's. But in the short time he'd been walking this road with his young friend, he hadn't even realized that she was already struggling to get through the day sometimes. And he really hadn't grasped the realistic, rational nature of her fears until he was charged with the task of voicing those fears for her. It wasn't a shock to feel the tears falling on his arm as he continued working his way through Abby's notes, but it nearly derailed him when the first tear slid down his own cheek, too. Gibbs took that as his cue to rush through the last few things Abby wanted to share with her family, before he set the paper down and wrapped his arms fully around her, resting his chin on her head. He desperately wanted to hide his weakness, his own fear and pain that had been stirred up, but he knew Abby needed two things right now, answers, and honesty. Gibbs couldn't give her the answers she sought, but he'd spent years teaching them to allow emotion to come, when they had time to deal with it all. It was time to take his own advice.

After a moment of gazing blankly ahead and letting tears fall, Gibbs looked around the room, seeing his odd little family in varying stages of shock. To his surprise, Tony and Ziva both had a couple tear streaks on their faces, though both were trying to hide it. But nobody had made a move yet. Gibbs wordlessly reached out towards the sofa, beckoning. It was all the invitation his team needed. Gibbs found himself and Abby immediately surrounded by the group, all leaning on her as if willing their own strength to flow into their young friend's body and soul. Even Ducky gave up his chair to get down onto the floor, at great cost to his aging joints, and lay his hand on Abby's head, absently twirling her pigtail as their team, their family, simply spent time comforting its youngest member. Gibbs knew there would be questions to answer, and problems to solve, but first it was evident that everyone else needed to absorb the news, and Abby needed to soak up their love and support.

Sure enough, after five, ten minutes... he wasn't sure anymore... Abby sat up a little more, having regained some strength.

"I'm hungry now," she said quietly, breaking the dead silence, as Tony and Ziva both scrambled to their feet, set on providing for Abby's needs right now.

"Her plate's in the microwave," Gibbs said helpfully. "Might have cooled off a bit." He watched the pair as they went into the kitchen to take care of things. If the team could just pull together like this every day, and not just right now as a reaction to the sudden shock, he mused... if they could just learn these habits, this thing would be so much easier. It might even be a good experience for the team to go through, in its own way.

Gibbs continued to observe the gentle flurry of activity when Tony brought Abby a drink, as the others backed away just enough to give her room to breathe, and a little more space as Ziva placed a plate on the rug before their friend. The fears and questions were swirling in his mind, of course. Would he need to start writing checks, would she even tell him about her medical needs, or would he need to encroach on her independence and go to doctor appointments with her, in order to be sure it was all taken care of? Would they need to tell the director, how long does it take to redesign a forensics labs anyway... would an assistant help, if he could even get her to accept one? Letting the team to pull together and take care of its own was a good thing, he knew, but they couldn't operate a man down indefinitely, to leave one of them to assist her. Palmer might be able to step up and split his time, but his love was really in his work with Ducky, and he was needed there. That would only be a stopgap solution. And would any of this even be an issue, or would she even allow anybody to help her? Gibbs had read enough online to know that when you live with a lifelong condition, it can become habit to reject assistance and run yourself into the ground trying to do everything you think that "normal" people ought to do. Gibbs' thoughts were interrupted, though, when Abby paused between bites, peering around the room quizzically.

"Somebody say something," she commanded. The silence persisted until McGee finally opened his mouth, three times, and spoke up.

"What's the rest of the stuff in your bag of papers?" he asked. Oh yeah. The papers. Gibbs picked up the bag again, and started handing things out, since Abby had her dinner all over her hands.

"This is some information," Abby helpfully explained as he passed out papers, which the team immediately started flipping through. "The big stapled packet is what the National Institute of Health knows about Goald's, as of about three months ago. The folded brochure is a brief, non-technical explanation of Goald's, meant for the friends and family members of Goald's patients. I figured you'd probably want to read more, so... that's about the best information there is. If you want to hear more from people who live with it, I can show you some web forums, or you can google." McGee nodded at that.

"Yeah, actually... Abby, would you mind if I got my computer and looked some of this up right now?"

"I knew you would," Abby answered with a grin. Gibbs watched as he started looking things up, and Ducky came around to read over his shoulder. Now that somebody had broken the spell, Ziva took out her own laptop and began to read, as well, with Tony and Palmer looking on. Gibbs hadn't been too sure when he let the "kids" order cable internet service, and install those two boxes in the coat closet. But watching them now, he was glad he'd said yes. The group spent nearly an hour reading about Goald's, trading different bits of information as they studied the two computers. McGee, ever the compassionate one, had gone straight for patient stories, while Ziva was focused on the facts. Between the two of them, they provided a pretty good crash course for the group. After a while, predictably, Tony began to fidget. Gibbs smiled inwardly at that. The younger man's tendency to remind Gibbs of himself was the driving reason that he worked so hard to "raise" Tony to outgrow that impatience and spontaneity before he got himself into trouble. This night, however, Gibbs allowed Tony's inattention to unfold naturally, and sure enough, the boy got up and pulled a movie out of the bag he'd tossed by the door on his way into the room.

"When McGeek is done, can we watch a movie?" Abby looked up at the DVD he was holding up, and lit up at the sight.

"Ooh! Princess Bride, my favourite!" Without bothering to wait for everybody to finish reading, she took the disc and dropped it into the player. Gibbs hadn't been any more sure about the new TV and movie player than he was about getting internet access, but tonight, he was thankful that he'd let Tony talk him into it. He stood up from the floor, hoping Abby's excited chatter covered over the creaking and popping in his knees, and then he re-settled on the couch, arms out, waiting to see who would join him. He wasn't surprised when Abby pounced on him as soon as she'd hit play, but he was a little shocked when Tony curled up on his other side. He'd known that the two were like brother and sister, and he knew that this news would hit Tony a little rough, but the younger man wasn't one to let his team see his tender side. Hell, he didn't even let most of his dates see his tender side. Tony had always reserved that for Abby, and yet, here he was, dropping the mask and being genuinely caring, right there in front of God and everybody. Gibbs' fascination turned to annoyance when he realized that Tony and Abby were, in fact, going to recite the entire movie along with the DVD.

Fortunately for Gibbs, the team had been run ragged all week, and before long, Ducky had taken his leave, and Palmer had followed suit shortly after. McGee's laughter turned to light snoring, sprawled in front of the TV. Ziva had turned in her place on the floor at Abby's feet, to curl up and rest her head next to the Goth's little feet, tucked up on the sofa. Even Tony had fallen quiet. Gibbs took that as his cue to disentangle from the sofa, waking everyone in the process.

"I'm going to bed," he said simply. "DiNozzo, McGee, I expect you'll leave the bedroom to the ladies. Spare pillows and sleeping bags are in the linen closet." With that, he kissed Abby's forehead and made his way upstairs. He hadn't gotten to ask the questions about what Abby needed, he mused as he got ready for bed. But as he rehashed the information that the team had found online, he realized that the most important thing was for the team to encourage Abby to go easier on her body when she needed to, and to teach her that adapting to her body's needs wasn't the weakness she feared, but that it is the very definition of strength and determination. Regrowing her sense of strength and self-sufficience was maybe the most important thing her family could give her, Gibbs realized suddenly. Everything else was just details.


End file.
